Dating You / Hating You
Page 23
“Of course,” I say, because what else can I do?
“Carter,” Brad says, turning, “you have enough charisma to take over this entire town, and I think you’ll do it. Listen to Evie, learn the ropes; she knows what she’s talking about.” He looks between us. “At least for the time being,” he says, leaning back in his chair again, “I think you will make an amazing team. Try to see it that way.”
He smiles, leans forward with his hands steepled beneath his chin, and gives us the patented icy blue stare.
Brad Kingman has excused us.
• • •
Out in the hallway Carter and I each study the floor, the wall, the table desks in the distance. The number of things we could say about the situation seems infinite. But oddly, as much as I’ve enjoyed his company and his kisses and his penis, Carter is the last person I want to talk to about this right now.
I can tell he’s tense. I can tell we’re both tense, but I need to process a little bit in my own head before I help him process it, too.
He lets out a quiet whistle. “This is unreal.”
“I agree.” I have to pull my eyes away from the tension in his jaw.
“When I heard we’d merged, my biggest fear was just that it would be hard to work with my new girlfriend.”
My heart swoops low in my chest when he says this.
“But now, it’s like . . .” He shakes his head, running a hand through his thick hair. “I need this job. I moved here for this job.”
“My entire life is here,” I remind him. “I’ve worked for P&D for five years. I realize the situation really sucks for you, but I’ve built connections here. I’ve built a career here.”
You have enough charisma to take over this entire town, and I think you’ll do it.
Brad’s words to Carter bounce around the inside of my skull, and I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides. Brad wants Carter to take over the entire town; where exactly does that leave me?
Carter glances over to me, and for a flash I can see annoyance in his green eyes. But he quickly tucks it away.
“This is probably not the time to talk about it.” He closes his eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths. “Look. This is the worst thing that could have happened between us, and I realize that.” He puts a warm hand on my forearm. “But we’re going to figure it out, don’t worry.”
For some reason his reassurance bothers me even more. It’s true this isn’t a great situation for either of us, but I don’t need him to patronize me and tell me that everything will be okay when he knows exactly as much as I do. And I especially don’t need him to try to reassure me after he’s just told me how much he needs to be the one to keep his job.
We drift apart without more conversation, moving in opposite directions away from Brad’s office: I head to get a drink of water from the break room while Carter walks toward the restrooms.
I know I should eat the Luna bar I put in my purse this morning, but my stomach seems to have closed up shop for the day.
• • •
In order to help with the transition, P&D brought in a few team members from New York. And just like Brad suggested, early that afternoon I have a one-on-one with a senior agent I’ve met on several occasions, a woman I deeply admire. Her name is Joanne Simms, and she’s a shark. She started in Features and has moved over to the television side, but she knows everyone. At first blush, she’s the sweetest human you could possibly meet. But in negotiations the gloves come off. She’s my Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes. If you’re in her parking spot, she will ram her car into your car without a second thought. And then maybe set it on fire.
Her temporary office is in the corner and has a beautiful view of downtown and the mountains beyond. This office was recently occupied by Tom Hetchum, head of Legal at P&D. Tom is no longer with us.
Joanne beckons me in, and while she finishes up a call, I stand near the window, trying to calm my racing heart. I love the view of LA from this side of the building. It reminds me how many people there are here, how many opportunities, how much space there is for everyone in the sprawling mass of buildings. I’m not an optimist, but I’m not exactly a pessimist, either. I’m a wait-and-see-when-you-have-more-info-ist. My opinions spend ninety percent of their time in a holding pattern before swooping in like a hawk.
And right now my opinions need Joanne to get off the phone and tell me this is all bullshit and everything will be fine.
In the end, she doesn’t tell me that. But there’s a hopeful vibe to the meeting, anyway. Joanne is hilarious, she loves her job, she loves what she does. And she’s a woman who never lets the old boys’ game get in her way. She is exactly what I want to be.
We talk about her list, about the kind of list I have and where I’d like to see it go. We talk about the clients I’ll likely inherit from the agents who were let go, and how to manage my current clients’ panic along with the panic of those actors passed off to someone new. We have a conversation that feels a lot like long-term planning, and although I won’t get to work with Joanne much because she’s in New York and in television, just knowing she’ll be around for a while is reassuring.
At the end of the meeting I feel a million times better about my place here, and I generally feel like Carter and I can find a way to make this work. At the very least, I feel confident that I’m needed—and that upper management at P&D knows that.
The hallways are quiet as I leave Joanne’s office, and I have a moment of peace to myself to sit and think about this morning. I saw Carter heading into John Fineman’s office earlier, and instinctively I want to wait for him. I feel so much better after talking to Joanne, and I want to infuse a conversation with Carter with some of that hopefulness. But when I see him emerge, I immediately sense his meeting did not go as well. His position is admittedly more precarious than mine, and I do really like him. I don’t want him moving to New York any more than I want to move there myself.
“How did it go with John?” I ask.
He smiles a little drily. “I think that was the most talking I’ve ever done in a one-on-one meeting before.”
I laugh. “John is not known for his conversation skills. I sat next to him at a company Christmas dinner and let’s just say it’s amazing he does any deals. He’s not known for being very . . . sociable.” I feel a little like I’m marking my territory here, emphasizing my familiarity with people he’s only just meeting. I know I should pull back and be more of a team player—Carter is the new guy, after all. So I go for encouragement: “I’m sure you were great. I bet everyone loves you.”
Carter studies me for a few breaths, and I get the distinct impression that he knows exactly what I’m doing. “It looks like things went well with Joanne.”
I nod, smiling. “When are you meeting with her?”
“Later this week.”
“Do you want to grab some lunch?” I ask. “I could fill you in on what’s what here. Who’s sleeping with who and where the good coffee is hidden.”
He looks away, unsmiling as he squints at a point in the distance down the hall. “I think I’m just going to grab a sandwich and catch up on all the emails I need to deal with,” he says. “I’ve got a million things to handle right now. Maybe some other time?”
“Carter,” Brad says, turning, “you have enough charisma to take over this entire town, and I think you’ll do it. Listen to Evie, learn the ropes; she knows what she’s talking about.” He looks between us. “At least for the time being,” he says, leaning back in his chair again, “I think you will make an amazing team. Try to see it that way.”
He smiles, leans forward with his hands steepled beneath his chin, and gives us the patented icy blue stare.
Brad Kingman has excused us.
• • •
Out in the hallway Carter and I each study the floor, the wall, the table desks in the distance. The number of things we could say about the situation seems infinite. But oddly, as much as I’ve enjoyed his company and his kisses and his penis, Carter is the last person I want to talk to about this right now.
I can tell he’s tense. I can tell we’re both tense, but I need to process a little bit in my own head before I help him process it, too.
He lets out a quiet whistle. “This is unreal.”
“I agree.” I have to pull my eyes away from the tension in his jaw.
“When I heard we’d merged, my biggest fear was just that it would be hard to work with my new girlfriend.”
My heart swoops low in my chest when he says this.
“But now, it’s like . . .” He shakes his head, running a hand through his thick hair. “I need this job. I moved here for this job.”
“My entire life is here,” I remind him. “I’ve worked for P&D for five years. I realize the situation really sucks for you, but I’ve built connections here. I’ve built a career here.”
You have enough charisma to take over this entire town, and I think you’ll do it.
Brad’s words to Carter bounce around the inside of my skull, and I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides. Brad wants Carter to take over the entire town; where exactly does that leave me?
Carter glances over to me, and for a flash I can see annoyance in his green eyes. But he quickly tucks it away.
“This is probably not the time to talk about it.” He closes his eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths. “Look. This is the worst thing that could have happened between us, and I realize that.” He puts a warm hand on my forearm. “But we’re going to figure it out, don’t worry.”
For some reason his reassurance bothers me even more. It’s true this isn’t a great situation for either of us, but I don’t need him to patronize me and tell me that everything will be okay when he knows exactly as much as I do. And I especially don’t need him to try to reassure me after he’s just told me how much he needs to be the one to keep his job.
We drift apart without more conversation, moving in opposite directions away from Brad’s office: I head to get a drink of water from the break room while Carter walks toward the restrooms.
I know I should eat the Luna bar I put in my purse this morning, but my stomach seems to have closed up shop for the day.
• • •
In order to help with the transition, P&D brought in a few team members from New York. And just like Brad suggested, early that afternoon I have a one-on-one with a senior agent I’ve met on several occasions, a woman I deeply admire. Her name is Joanne Simms, and she’s a shark. She started in Features and has moved over to the television side, but she knows everyone. At first blush, she’s the sweetest human you could possibly meet. But in negotiations the gloves come off. She’s my Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes. If you’re in her parking spot, she will ram her car into your car without a second thought. And then maybe set it on fire.
Her temporary office is in the corner and has a beautiful view of downtown and the mountains beyond. This office was recently occupied by Tom Hetchum, head of Legal at P&D. Tom is no longer with us.
Joanne beckons me in, and while she finishes up a call, I stand near the window, trying to calm my racing heart. I love the view of LA from this side of the building. It reminds me how many people there are here, how many opportunities, how much space there is for everyone in the sprawling mass of buildings. I’m not an optimist, but I’m not exactly a pessimist, either. I’m a wait-and-see-when-you-have-more-info-ist. My opinions spend ninety percent of their time in a holding pattern before swooping in like a hawk.
And right now my opinions need Joanne to get off the phone and tell me this is all bullshit and everything will be fine.
In the end, she doesn’t tell me that. But there’s a hopeful vibe to the meeting, anyway. Joanne is hilarious, she loves her job, she loves what she does. And she’s a woman who never lets the old boys’ game get in her way. She is exactly what I want to be.
We talk about her list, about the kind of list I have and where I’d like to see it go. We talk about the clients I’ll likely inherit from the agents who were let go, and how to manage my current clients’ panic along with the panic of those actors passed off to someone new. We have a conversation that feels a lot like long-term planning, and although I won’t get to work with Joanne much because she’s in New York and in television, just knowing she’ll be around for a while is reassuring.
At the end of the meeting I feel a million times better about my place here, and I generally feel like Carter and I can find a way to make this work. At the very least, I feel confident that I’m needed—and that upper management at P&D knows that.
The hallways are quiet as I leave Joanne’s office, and I have a moment of peace to myself to sit and think about this morning. I saw Carter heading into John Fineman’s office earlier, and instinctively I want to wait for him. I feel so much better after talking to Joanne, and I want to infuse a conversation with Carter with some of that hopefulness. But when I see him emerge, I immediately sense his meeting did not go as well. His position is admittedly more precarious than mine, and I do really like him. I don’t want him moving to New York any more than I want to move there myself.
“How did it go with John?” I ask.
He smiles a little drily. “I think that was the most talking I’ve ever done in a one-on-one meeting before.”
I laugh. “John is not known for his conversation skills. I sat next to him at a company Christmas dinner and let’s just say it’s amazing he does any deals. He’s not known for being very . . . sociable.” I feel a little like I’m marking my territory here, emphasizing my familiarity with people he’s only just meeting. I know I should pull back and be more of a team player—Carter is the new guy, after all. So I go for encouragement: “I’m sure you were great. I bet everyone loves you.”
Carter studies me for a few breaths, and I get the distinct impression that he knows exactly what I’m doing. “It looks like things went well with Joanne.”
I nod, smiling. “When are you meeting with her?”
“Later this week.”
“Do you want to grab some lunch?” I ask. “I could fill you in on what’s what here. Who’s sleeping with who and where the good coffee is hidden.”
He looks away, unsmiling as he squints at a point in the distance down the hall. “I think I’m just going to grab a sandwich and catch up on all the emails I need to deal with,” he says. “I’ve got a million things to handle right now. Maybe some other time?”
